


The Verge of Defeat

by bleep0bleep



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Drift Compatibility, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pentecost looks at Mako and then quickly at Derek, his steely eyes glittering. Derek knows the Marshal purposefully left him off that list for a reason-- he knows exactly why Derek never wanted to get in a Jaeger again.<br/>But there’s both Scott and Stiles turning their heads to look at him, faces both lighting up in recognition, and Derek doesn’t really need to think about it all that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Verge of Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> _This work is intended for the private enjoyment of the reader. I do not give permission to this work being read aloud and/or shared with the press, or anyone working on said production of_ Teen Wolf, _including but not limited to cast, crew, writers, or producers. I also do not give permission share this work on third-party websites such as Goodreads, which I believe is a resource intended for published works outside of fandom._
> 
> ~
> 
> Written for Crossover Day at [McHaleinski Weekend!](http://polyteenwolf.tumblr.com/post/86341445522/ten-more-days-to-go-until-it-starts-here-are-the)
> 
> This takes place pre-Raleigh arriving at the Shatterdome in the Pacific Rim universe.

Derek looks up from where he’s adjusting a rotary cuff, the orange-gold sparks flying as he trims the new metal edge. Marshal Stacker Pentecost is walking with two men, hands gesturing out in a welcoming gesture. He can’t see them from where he is in his makeshift workshop in the Shatterdome, but from their stance and the way they’re craning their heads up to look at all the Jaegers in awe, Derek can guess probably young, eagerly diving straight into this from whatever Pentecost’s rousing recruitment speech to them was.

It’s not that Derek’s lost hope, like the gossip going around the Shatterdome likes to say; poor Derek Hale, can’t even step foot in a Jaeger anymore, can’t face the Drift ever since Laura was yanked out of _Red Alpha_ ’s helm by a Category Three, leaving Derek to pilot the ruined Jaeger, broken and desperate back to shore, his mind still irreparably linked to Laura’s as she was torn apart.

He can still hear her screams in his dreams. Derek’s not sure what he’ll see in the Drift, but he can guarantee he won’t like it.

Derek just doesn’t have the wide-eyed determination he used to have, and the Kaiju seem to just keep coming, and no amount of doe-eyed fresh recruits can change that.

Pentecost gives Derek a nod as he walks past his station, the other two trailing behind him, one of them bouncing eagerly like a goddamn _puppy_ \--

Oh.

Derek immediately flips his welding mask down, heart racing because he recognizes the two men walking by him, falling into step in perfect unison, a hand on a shoulder, an arm looped companionably around a waist, heads turning in sync when Pentecost points out something to their right, and that would be just perfect, that they know each other and they’re drift compatible. The world isn’t that small, and it’s getting smaller every day.

Derek hammers down the metal angrily, thinking back to that one idyllic summer back in Beacon Hills, of laughter and running idly through the Preserve, splashing wildly in the lake, pale skin and moles and eager kisses, falling asleep in the grass, watching golden afternoons slip by through dappled leaves. He’s never quite forgotten the boy who he thought he left behind, now a man, ready to jump head first into the war that Derek told him to steer clear of. It’s definitely Stiles-- Derek would recognize that particular set of moles anywhere, even if Stiles has gotten taller and grown his hair out. He never would have guessed, through that haze of memory of Stiles rambling on about anything and everything, that _Scotty, my best friend, Scotty, went abroad already to train with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps_ , could possibly be the same Scott McCall that he met in Hawaii two years later. They trained together, worked efficiently with an ease of casual familiarity only after a few weeks. Derek remembers teaching Scott all about the Drift, how not to chase the rabbit, what to expect-- long hours working out together in the gym, bodies pressed close together, stealing kisses in between training sessions.

Scott and Derek easily could have been drift compatible but Derek had already been set to ship off for Hong Kong with Laura. He had clapped Scott on the shoulder and said, “Next time, rookie,” pretty sure he would never see him again, kissed him soundly and left. Derek had been ready to die in a Jaeger.

He had not.

And now Scott and Stiles are here, standing tall, _together_ , like they always have been. They look good together. Like they were meant to be.

Derek hammers on bitterly.

 

* * *

 

The vast centre of the Shatterdome is empty of people, machinery looming above them, Jaegers sitting silently. Derek walks by idly, carrying his tool belt, briefly wondering why it’s so empty today and he catches a glimpse of Erica swiftly running past him, blond curls swinging wildly.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Oh my God, you would be perfect,” Erica mutters, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him with her. “There’s no way any of those other guys could hold a flame to you, you’ve actually piloted a Jaeger and taken down Kaiju butt.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek scowls, letting himself get pulled back towards the stadium center, towards the training gyms.

“So you know those two new recruits, Stilinski and McCall?” Erica asks jauntily.

“Yes,” Derek says slowly. He’s taken care to steer clear of both of them since they’ve arrived.

“Marshal wants to put them in a Jaeger stat, but the only free working one is an old prototype of the Wei triplets,” Erica says.

“Oh.” This explains why everyone had rushed off; either to watch or try out in the selection process.

They’ve reached the Kwoon Combat Room, and Derek can hear whooping and hollering as somebody hits the mat. Erica pulls him through the crowd, bodies pushed aside as they make their way to the center. Scott is grinning ecstatically, looking confident and strong, reaching out to Stiles for a high five. Stiles slaps his hand but scowls. “It’s not a good thing that we beat him, Scotty,” he mutters, just loud enough for Derek to pick up among the noise in the room. Scott shrugs, infectious grin winning out and Stiles embraces him, their noses brushing up against one another, like they’re in their own little world. Derek wonders how many small intricacies they’ve built together; he’s not even jealous (who would he be jealous of, he wonders), he’s glad they’ve found each other and are happy.

Mako Mori, Pentecost’s protegé, catches his eye and she raises her eyebrow the slightest amount from where she’s standing next to Pentecost at the front of the room. Derek gives a her a noncommittal shrug, jerking his head at Erica by way of explanation and Mako smiles in understanding.

“Is that everyone you’ve selected for us so far?” Stiles asks them before turning around to smirk at the crowd, tossing the wooden staff between his hands and catching it deftly.

“Yes,” Mako says, but her eyes glitter mischievously. “But I believe we may have another contender.” She nods at Derek. “Mr. Hale?”

Pentecost looks at Mako and then quickly at Derek, his steely eyes glittering. Derek knows the Marshal purposefully left him off that list for a reason-- he knows exactly why Derek never wanted to get in a Jaeger again.

But there’s both Scott and Stiles turning their heads to look at him, faces both lighting up in recognition, and Derek doesn’t really need to think about it all that much.

He unbuckles his tool belt, letting it clatter to the floor and steps out of his socks and shoes. Derek walks onto the mat in his bare feet, aware of the whispers that are springing around him, his name being bandied about along with _Red Alpha_ and _tragedy_ and the names of all the different Kaiju he had defeated with Laura. He strips out of his shirt as well, the greasy henley falling to the ground, and flexes slightly, the scars all along his torso rippling as he moves. Derek can hear the whispering intensify, and he no longer cares.

Tang Jin, the eldest of the Wei triplets, hands him a staff with a respectful nod.

The wood is solid in Derek’s grip and he stands at the ready.

Scott charges him first, and muscle memory takes over, Derek easily parrying the blow like the years had never passed; he still can predict the steps Scott will take, making a perfect feint and then swinging around his staff to meet Stiles, rushing in, amber eyes gleaming. They move around each other, the fight revolving into a complicated dance, none of them ever getting the upper hand, staffs clanging with and feet scuffling around the mat.

“I’ve seen enough,” Pentecost calls out, voice booming across the room. “Hale, you think you’re up for this?”

Derek’s chest is heaving, and he drops the staff, looking between Scott and Stiles. They’re both staring at Derek in a mixture of shock and disbelief, and then they look back at each other, and yeah, Derek doesn’t know how to read that expression.

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

Pentecost nods firmly and Mako looks up at Derek with a proud expression. “You’re off mechanical duty, Hale. Welcome back.” He claps Derek on the shoulder.

The crowd is dissipating, and Mako is talking to the Wei’s about scheduling or something and when they are free to train with Scott, Stiles and Derek, but the room might as well be empty because all Derek can see is the heated stare that Stiles is giving him, focused and intent, until Scott grabs him by the arm and whispers something in his ear, something that makes Stiles’ lips curl up in a warm smile, and then Scott turns around and bridges that space, walking towards Derek and sweeping him up in a warm embrace.

“Good to have you on the team,” Scott says, arms tightening around him. It’s strange enough yet familiar at the same time that Derek has to stop himself from automatically curling into the touch; he settles for patting Scott awkwardly on the back. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you-- when _Red Alpha_ went down, I thought--”

Stiles crosses his arms, scowling at them. “I can’t believe you’ve been alive for all these months and you never bothered to call.”

Derek jerks away from the hug, uncomfortable. He barely remembers how focused the media coverage had been on his and Laura’s seemingly unstoppable force against the Kaiju’s; there must have been a small fuss when _Red Alpha_ was taken down but with the media attempts for “positive” news coverage Derek’s pretty sure they glossed over it in favor of the rising stars of the Hansen father-son team. He guesses it would be pretty easy for one to think Derek had died in that attack, but Derek didn’t really think he had anyone left to care.

“Come on, Scott,” Stiles says, voice tinged with anger. He tugs on Scott’s elbow, fingers grazing down his arm until their hands link and they walk out together, leaving Derek alone in the combat room.

Well. If he had any question whether they were together, he doesn’t anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Training is vigorous, and the Wei triplets are ruthless in getting them to understand the intricacies of the triple-person Jaeger. It’s not as simple as one person controlling one half of the body of the Jaeger; there are all sorts of distinct cues that they need to learn from one another, bodies needing to be able to anticipate what the others will do and move in unison.

The exercises leave Derek winded, body sore and aching but he’s never felt more alive.

He falls easily back into a friendly routine with Scott, working out side by side with the familiar competitive banter they shared in Hawaii. It’s difficult, though, having almost all of what they once had-- and sometimes Derek thinks he sees Scott catching himself falling into the patterns of their old relationship-- a hand to the small of his back sometimes, a private smile, or that almost-kiss goodbye-- and then they both recoil, as if remembering where they are.

Derek doesn’t want to come between them.

Stiles rarely talks to him outside of what’s necessary during training, still apparently holding a grudge over-- well, Derek’s not quite sure. Derek tries to coax a conversation out of him every now and then, but Stiles adamantly refuses, giving him one-word answers only.  

It’s after one particularly grueling training session, the day before their first actual test run in the Jaeger. Stiles tells Scott, “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” when Scott leaves the room, nodding, and then he fixes Derek with a hardened glare.

“Listen, tomorrow we’re all going to be in each other’s heads, so I’m going to need you to just _stop_ ,” Stiles says.

“Stop _what_?” Derek asks. “I don’t--”

“Stop trying to be nice to me,” Stiles says. He’s angry, but his voice sounds more vulnerable than aggressive. “I get that we work well as a team or whatever, but I get it.”

“Get what?” Derek demands, bewildered. Stiles is standing alarmingly close to him; Derek can practically count his eyelashes.

“You and Scott had a thing in Hawaii. He told me,” Stiles says. “I get it, you guys would be good together.” He steps closer, saying, “Just let me have this once--” and then Derek has an armful of Stiles, and Stiles lips are pressing against his in a hot whirlwind kiss.

Before Derek has time to even figure out how to respond, Stiles pulls away and then leaves without a word.

 

* * *

 

 

They suit up without a word, gear on, helmets secured as they step into the cockpit. Derek can hear the whirrs of machinery and then the cold seeping chill at the base of his spine when the computer says “Neural link activated,” and he’s thrown into the chaotic mess that is the Drift.

He gets glimpses of memories from Scott and Stiles’ minds, rushing quickly through him in an instant, emotions overwhelming him. There’s a young Scott watching his father leave, a Stiles crying at a grave, the two of them playing lacrosse together in high school, then watching the news of the Kaiju attacks in horror.

There’s an ambitious Scott eagerly signing up for the PPDC as soon as he’s of age, leaving Stiles alone in Beacon Hills. And then there’s Derek, featuring heavily in Stiles’ memories of that one summer Derek took off from training to visit his hometown; Derek’s surprised at the vibrancy and color of the memories, the affection Stiles saw him with, and then the hurt when Derek tells him he has to go. “Don’t sign up for the PPDC,” memory-Derek tells memory-Stiles. Derek knows he only had said it because he wanted Stiles alive; but trapped in Stiles’ memory he can only feel the betrayal and the anger, that Stiles wasn’t good enough.

Derek is thrown into one of Scott’s memories from Hawaii, where they were watching the sunset after a long day, and Scott is kissing him, the memory is warm with hope. “I’ll watch the news for _Red Alpha_ ,” memory-Scott is promising him.

“Don’t bother,” memory-Derek tells him, punching him in the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure you’ll get your own co-pilot and one day we’ll be meeting out there on the sea, fighting together.”

The memories blend together like a river of color now, and it’s all Scott and Stiles together, reuniting in Australia, coming back together like clockwork. It feels almost voyeuristic to watch them like this, to kiss and fight and make love together.

And then they’re arriving at the Shatterdome, only to hear that the only Jaeger left is for three people, and there’s Derek sparring with them. Only from their end it’s equal parts wonder and amazement, and from Stiles, anger from not being called, that he apparently wasn’t important enough for Derek to reach out to. It’s confusing, watching the memories from this end, seeing Scott and Stiles fight that evening in their room, realizing that both their Dereks were in fact, the same Derek.

The rest of the memories are just as tumultuous as they speed up towards the present, but they remain in the same thread of desire, the images from training varying from lingering on Derek’s body to fantasies about the three of them in bed, together. There’s also Scott’s confusion about Stiles’ recent distance and Stiles’ own insecurities and wants to remove himself from the picture so Scott and Derek can be happy.

By the time the neural link is severed Derek is exhausted. He’s emotionally drained and his body feels like he’s just run a marathon.

Their helmets are barely off and the three of them have just disengaged from the suit link-ups when Scott speaks. “You two are such idiots,” he says, grabbing Stiles in a fierce hug, suits clinking together. “I would never--” Scott says to Stiles, looking him in the eye, reassuring him. Derek’s not sure what Scott saw in the Drift, but Stiles’ eyes are glassy and they share a look of mutual understanding, of what, Derek’s not sure yet.

“We can do this,” Stiles says, in awe, and Scott nods, and then reaches for Derek, pulling him into the hug.

It’s clumsy with the bulk of the suits, but Derek lets them hold him while they all catch their breath from the neural sharing. Scott tilts his head up hesitantly at first, then catches Derek’s mouth in a kiss. Derek can’t help but moan into it, a satisfied noise in the back of his throat vibrating through his body, and then Stiles is grabbing his chin, eagerly kissing him as well, tongue gently moving across his lips. They trade kisses between them, and Derek can’t decide what he likes best; watching Stiles and Scott passionately touch, the plump curve of Stiles’ lips or the warmth of Scott’s mouth.  When they finally all break for air, lips ruddy and cheeks flushed, Stiles is the first to laugh, happy and bright. It’s catching, and soon Scott is chuckling as well, and Derek can’t help but join in, body rumbling with mirth.

He always knew he was going to die in a Jaeger.

He just didn’t know he could live in one too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr [here](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com).


End file.
